Chapter 266: Snake Marsh Ghost City (Part 3) Second Night: Shadows

The lighter's gas was barely holding out; it flickered once and then quickly died, but the problem was I couldn't see any flame—everything in front of me was black.

For a moment I didn't react at all; instinctively I thought something was covering my eyes, so I reached up to touch them, only realizing I was touching my eyelashes and there was nothing there. Then I got confused, thinking, what the hell is going on?

Is the mist too thick here? I shone my watch and held it right up to my eyes—still pitch black. And I gradually realized that this blackness was perfectly uniform.

I was still deeply puzzled, because the concept simply didn't exist in my mind; I was completely at a loss. I waved my hands vigorously, trying to dispel the darkness in front of me, feeling like a single wave would push it away. But it was useless.

I was dazed for a long time before I calmed down and tried to figure out what was happening. Outside it was completely dark and silent—had something happened while I was sleeping that blocked out all the light?

But that didn't make sense; something so close and I couldn't see its light. As I thought it over, slowly a realization dawned on me, and a cold sweat broke out.

Blocking the light was impossible—so in this situation, could it be—was I blind?

I couldn't believe it. The idea had never crossed my mind, it was too abrupt. But fear was already taking hold inside me, a fear unlike any I'd felt before—far beyond the fear of death. I started rubbing my eyes hard, blinking forcefully without thinking, until my eyes hurt so much I couldn't open them anymore, and only then did I stop.

Then I immediately thought of Panzi. I crawled over and shoved him, trying to wake him up and ask if he could see any light. After a few pushes, I found his body was burning hot—obviously the low fever had come back. I shook him for a long time but he didn't wake up.

I sat down, thinking, this is bad. I took a few deep breaths and immediately thought of Poker-face and Fatty. If I really was blind, then this was sudden blindness, and sudden blindness must have a reason—like light damage or poisoning. People don't go blind for no reason. So it was very likely that I wasn't the only victim.

If they weren't blind and only I was affected, then they might be just outside the tent but not making any sound. I immediately crawled to the edge of the tent and listened for movement outside, calling softly a few times: "Fatty!"

I waited for a while, but no one answered.

I hadn't called quietly—in such a silent environment, no one could miss it unless they were both asleep. But Poker-face would never fall asleep.

A cold sweat ran down my back. I thought, they must be in trouble too. I sat back down, remembering our speculations a few hours earlier, and suddenly broke out in goosebumps—was this the sudden change that had happened to Third Uncle and his group?

Could camping here make people go blind?

My mind was a tangled mess, completely unable to process it. We'd thought of countless possibilities, but never this.

In a place like this, for a normal group of people, this sudden blindness meant certain death for everyone—even worse than death.

I was trembling all over, countless images flashing through my mind: myself groping through the rain forest, seeing nothing, without even a blind person's adapted hearing. Death was just a matter of time, and before death, I'd likely go through a long, extremely terrifying ordeal.

But what exactly had caused my blindness? Food? We'd been eating compressed biscuits all along with no problem—could it be this ruin?

I was still relatively calm, probably because I still couldn't accept that I was already blind. Just then, from outside the tent, quite far away, came a strange voice speaking.

I shuddered and immediately strained my ears. I recognized it—it was the same kind of human voice like static from a walkie-talkie that we'd heard in the rain forest, rising and falling in pitch, unspeakably eerie.

In my mind appeared that ferocious human figure standing upright like a snake, and my throat tightened. Why won't this thing leave us alone?

What was making that sound? Was it A Ning or not? If only I could see, I'd sneak a peek—but dammit, I had to go blind at a time like this.

But even if it wasn't a snake, it was definitely moving with those snakes. It meant that those poisonous snakes were already near the camp. Immediately my mind tensed and I thought of the tent flap—had I closed the tent door earlier? I couldn't see, so I didn't know; I had to feel for it.

Thinking that, I immediately groped for the tent flap. Just as I touched it, someone suddenly pushed in from the entrance and knocked me over. I scrambled up, but instantly was pinned down and my mouth was covered.

I was scared half to death, but then I smelled the sweaty, oily stench of Fatty. Next, something was pressed against my face. I felt it—it was a gas mask.

I stopped struggling immediately and adjusted the mask. Then I heard Fatty's lowered voice: "Don't panic. The mist is poisonous. Put the mask on and you'll be able to see in a little while. Whatever you do, don't talk loudly—the camp is surrounded by snakes."

I nodded right away. Fatty released me, and I asked in a low voice, "Where did you guys go just now?"

"Long story—like a son without a mother," Fatty said. "You think it's easy finding gas masks by feel in the dark?"

I cursed him, saying that's what you get for not listening to me. Just then, the strange static sound rang out again, much closer. Fatty immediately hushed me: "Don't talk!"

I shut my mouth. Then I heard Fatty rummaging through things. After a few shuffles, he found something and shoved it into my hand. I felt it—it was a dagger. I wondered what he was up to, and then I heard him crawling toward the tent opening.

I reached out and grabbed him, stopping him. He shook me off and whispered, "Xiao Ge got bitten. I have to go save him right now. Stay here and don't move—wait until you can see!"

My head exploded at that. No way—I hadn't even processed it before Fatty was gone. I stood there frozen, feeling the world spin.

First, the shock that Poker-face was bitten. Fatty hadn't explained clearly, but those snakes were deadly poisonous—whether someone could be saved after a bite, I didn't dare think about. Then, the shock that someone with Poker-face's skills and alertness could be bitten—what the hell was going on outside?

I was frantic, wanting to go out and see right away, but dammit, I couldn't see anything. Then a terrible thought struck me—what if Fatty got bitten too? Being here alone with Panzi—that would be too terrifying.

That anxiety was indescribable. Everything before me was pitch black, and I had no idea how long it would take to recover. The situation outside was extremely dangerous. I clutched the dagger in my hand, my whole body stiff as death, wondering if Fatty had given me this thing for suicide or self-defense.

But there was nothing I could do. I couldn't do anything—I just sat there, listening to the sounds outside while hunching my body to suppress the shivering. I still couldn't hear anything from outside—unimaginable that it was full of snakes. The static-like sound didn't come any closer, but it kept coming and going intermittently. Judging by the distance, the nearest point was at the edge of our camp, but it never came a step closer.

I don't know how long passed—I had no concept of time; my mind was completely blank during that period. I eased up a little. People can't sustain one emotion forever—when tension reaches its peak, the body eventually goes limp.

Gradually, my vision began to grow hazy. The black started to recede, not like a tide, but instead the blackness faded, and a layer of blurry gray mist appeared in front of my eyes.

I breathed a sigh of relief—finally I could see light. I didn't know how to speed up the recovery, so I just kept blinking.

Slowly, that layer of gray turned whiter and whiter, and the progress was fast. Soon, some outlines appeared within the gray.

It felt a bit like seeing through severe nearsightedness. I turned my head and realized the brightness in front of me was probably from a miner's lamp that hadn't been turned off. I lifted it and shone it around—sure enough, the light and shadow changed. My eyes really were getting better.

But even with this level of blurriness, I still couldn't make out where the tent's exit was; I could only see some vague outlines.

I'd heard stories of elderly people who wept tears of joy after cataract surgery restored their sight. Now I could deeply understand that bittersweet feeling—so many things you only cherish after losing them. Just as I was about to take advantage of my blurry vision to check on Panzi, I suddenly saw, among the shadows before me, a shadow moving.

The scene was extremely blurry—I couldn't even distinguish outlines—but I could tell something was moving in front of me. I wasn't sure I could trust my vision; I thought it might be an illusion from the recovery, so I ignored it and slowly groped my way toward Panzi. Soon I touched his hand—his temperature was normal. I was surprised—he'd managed to shake off the fever on his own. Good thing too, because in this state I couldn't give him an injection.

I reached for the water bottle to give him a drink, but when I turned around, I suddenly saw something flash in front of me again. This time, as my vision gradually improved, I realized that the shadow darting past me had a very eerie motion—it didn't seem like an illusion.

I froze, then turned my face toward that shadow, straining to see. I made out a blurry, mist-like dark shape that actually seemed to have limbs.

I broke out in goosebumps. Could there be something else in this tent? Had something come in while I was blind?

Fatty? Poker-face? But they wouldn't stay silent. I tightened my grip on the dagger.

The shadow moved again, very fast. I couldn't help but whisper, "Who's there?"

The shadow stopped abruptly, then moved even faster. I saw it run to a spot and start shaking constantly. My vision gradually focused, and the movement became clearer. I realized it was rummaging through a backpack, looking for something. And I caught a whiff of swamp mud.

"Damn," I thought. This person must also be smeared with mud. Who could it be? I slowly shifted my body, trying to get closer for a look.

Before I could pounce, the shadow shifted again, then stood up and moved rapidly. Before my mind could catch up, I found it had vanished.

It all happened too fast. I was a bit baffled. Could it be an illusion? Then I thought of TV shows where vision lags after sight restoration. Was I just seeing a delayed image of Fatty coming in?

But almost at the same moment, there was a sudden flash of light and dark, accompanied by heavy panting. I saw a large, overlapping shadow charge in—practically stumble in—and heard Fatty gasp, out of breath: "Turn off the light! Turn off the miner's lamp!"

Before I could react, he snatched the lamp from me and switched it off. All around me went dark. He immediately whispered, "Get down. Stay quiet. No matter what happens, don't make a sound."

I dropped to the ground immediately. I could feel Fatty also lying down. At first I could hear him panting, but he was obviously trying to control it, and soon his breathing became very faint. I was wondering why we had to lie down when I suddenly heard a dull thud—something had slammed into the tent next to ours, extremely hard. Then another thud, followed by the sharp crack of a broken pole. Then came the sound of a tent collapsing. Clearly, the neighboring tent had been wrecked.

My face went pale. Before I could react, our tent suddenly shook—something had jabbed it.

A chill shot through my skull. I immediately covered my head, expecting the next blow to hit our tent.

But surprisingly, no attack came. I stayed like that, head covered, for a few minutes. The violent crashing sounds moved farther away.

What the hell is going on? What's out there? I was about to whisper to Fatty that we should run, but before I could open my mouth, he covered it.

More loud crashes from outside, more sounds of tents collapsing. Then, after a few minutes, the same noise again. This went on for half an hour, sometimes near, sometimes far. I estimated that at least a dozen tents had been destroyed. We lay there, our hearts stopping with every crash. The torment felt like being bombed—never knowing when the bomb would fall on us.

It was only after a very long period of silence that we gradually realized this wave of attacks might be over. Slowly, one by one, we sat up. I found that my vision had mostly recovered—still a bit blurry, but I could see colors and the outlines of people.

Then I felt around and realized the remaining blurriness was just fog on the lenses of my gas mask. After wiping it away, everything was clear.

I saw Fatty and Poker-face. Poker-face was injured, clutching his wrist. Fatty was covered in bloodstains. Both were caked in mud, looking as wretched as if they'd just crawled out of a pigsty. Clearly, they'd been through an extremely severe chaos the night before.

We still dared not speak. After a while, Fatty sneakily lifted the tent flap. As soon as he did, light streamed in—it was dawn.

Then he cautiously stepped out. I asked Poker-face if he was okay; he waved his hand, said it was nothing, and followed him out. I went after them.

The mist had mostly cleared. The morning light was heavy, but everything was visible. I turned to look around and was stunned.

All around us, the entire camp had collapsed. Every tent was wrecked, as if a devastating tornado had swept through. In the whole wide area, only our tent stood alone. There was nothing else—no sign of whatever had attacked, no trace of snakes.

Fatty cursed and sat down by the nearly extinguished campfire. I stood there, dumbfounded, unable to react. Then I heard a thud behind me—someone falling. I turned around and saw Poker-face collapsed on the ground.